


Warning: Risk of Fire

by Idioprat



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, I Got The Title From A Sticker On The Back Of My Fan Lmaoooo, I Need To Stop Having Good Ideas So I Can Stop Writing, Lots Of Cussing Because The Dialogue Is A Reflection Of My Own Speech, M/M, Superpowers, The Gang’s All Here - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idioprat/pseuds/Idioprat
Summary: “There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”- Albert EinsteinAlex read that quote on a poster once in middle school, and from there on, absolutely despised it. Every time he heard the word “miracle”, he was reminded of that loathsome quote and it’s stupid, lazy implications.So called “miracles” we’re the result of hard work and maybe a roll of the lucky dice now and then, and Alex preferred to live life knowing that everything happened for a reason. Miracles we’re not plentiful nor random, and to think so is nothing but misplaced optimism.Stuck in the daily routine of a high school junior, it’s not every day that Alex finds himself second-guessing a decision of his, but the events of these past few days had thrown him for the loop of all loops. He may just have to reconsider his position on that quote.





	1. Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I starting another fic when I have one not even close to completion yet? 
> 
> Because I have no motivation, that’s why.

“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”

\- Albert Einstein

Alex read that quote on a poster once in middle school, and from there on, absolutely despised it. Every time he heard the word “miracle”, he was reminded of that loathsome quote and it’s stupid, lazy implications. 

So called “miracles” we’re the result of hard work and maybe a roll of the lucky dice now and then, and Alex preferred to live life knowing that everything happened for a reason. Miracles we’re not plentiful nor random, and to think so is nothing but misplaced optimism.

Stuck in the daily routine of a high school junior, it’s not every day that Alex finds himself second-guessing a decision of his, but the events of these past few days had thrown him for the loop of all loops. He may just have to reconsider his position on that quote.

——

Alex shot out of bed at the god-forsaken time of 2:15am gasping for breath, his room spinning before his unfocused eyes. Struggling to cope with the intangible chaos surrounding him, the beads of sweat traveling down his bare back still managed to ground his attention.

Alex was always one to wear clothes to bed, a t-shirt and some boxers, and yet he was currently stark naked, which, he’d admit, wasn’t _that_ abnormal. A few crazy Friday nights here and there had left him in roughly the same shape, but there was usually another body in the bed... and at the very least a fragmented memory of the night before.

He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to recall the timeline of memories leading to his bed. He had, he distinctively remembered, in fact gone straight to bed, not even bothering to take off his school clothes. But no matter how many times he refocused his eyes, it was still 2:15am, and he was still naked. 

In a fit of moderate frustration, he kicked the covers back, but immediate regret followed the action when a cloud of black ash filled the air. 

“Jesus FUCK!” Alex fumbled for the edge of the blanket to yank it back down, but instead sent both him off the edge of the bed and stomach-first onto the cold hardwood floor.

Unmoving, he proceeded to yell into the wood as if it was the cause of the situation. Luckily, for the wood at least, Alex’s phone buzzed from the bedside table, alerting a new text from John.

 _Buzz._ **John (2)**

 _Buzz._ **John (3)**

Scratch that, three new texts from John.

——

John’s morning had started roughly the same, strange way, save the nakedness.

He was jolted awake in the dead of night as an abrupt flash of light overtook his bedroom and cut through his eyelids, rendering him too startled to return to a comforting sleep. 

Instead, John resorted to kicking his covers off and rolling over to face the ceiling, letting his mind wander. He fluttered from upcoming homework, to the news, to the plays of his most recent football game, but ultimately, he could only think about so much before he returned to mulling over his sleepless hell.

_Some asshole must have drove by with their high beams on. Through my fucking window of all windows... Who‘s out driving this late anyways?_

He took a moment to flip over and check the time on his phone.

_2:15am. Good Lord._

Resigned to his restless fate, John decided to satisfy his curiosity by sliding out of bed and peering out the window that sat above his desk. There wasn’t a single car in a close enough range to produce the _massive fucking blast_ of light he had received not a few minutes earlier.

With the click of his tongue, John fell back in to his nearby desk chair, the dust from the relatively unused blinds following him. Abruptly, he reeled back for a sneeze, preparing for the oncoming whiplash, and tensed as it left his body.

He only caught a glimpse of it through his screwed eyelids, but he knew he wasn’t imagining things. A flare of stark white light had just filled the room again. 

Another check out the blinds verified that the parking lot was still vacant, leaving John in a state of confusion as he searched for the source of the accursed light.

With nothing new turning up, John grew nervous. He decided to text Alex, who had a 50/50 chance of being up at 2:00am.

 **John:** Yo dude, the weirdest fucking thing just happened

 **John:** I mean like, really weird

 **John:** Maybe I’m just imagining things, but...

With a sigh, John threw his phone back on the bed and resumed his staring contest with the ceiling.

 _Buzz._ **Alex (1)**

 _Buzz._ **Alex (2)**

 _Buzz._ **Alex (3)**

John fumbled for his phone, opening the messages.

 **Alex:** Did you wake up naked too?

 **Alex:** Like, deadass, are you naked? 

**Alex:** This sounds weird but there’s a bunch of like, ash in my bed and idk man

Attempting to hold in his concerned laughter, John typed out his reply.

 **John:** Alex are you sure you’re not just drunk and burnt your clothes or something?

The typing bubble appeared and immediately disappeared, followed a minute later by:

 **Alex:** fck dude

 **Alex:** Hear me out. I’m not drunk, not even hungover, but I think you’re right

 **John:** I was kidding Alex.

 **Alex:** I’m about to McFreakin lose it John

 **Alex:** I woke up like 10 minutes ago naked and in a pile of ash. What other explanation is there except my clothes burnt off.

 **John:** mmmk. And how do you suppose your clothes burnt off?

 **Alex:** I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!!!!! Help please?

 **John:** I texted you to talk about my problems not help your drunk ass, Alex.

 **Alex:** I’m not DRUNK!! IT’S A WEDNESDAY, JOHN!

 **Alex:** AND I THINK MY PROBLEM’S A BIT MORE URGENT!!!!!!!

A few seconds passed before John gave in and clicked the call button, waiting for the phone to connect.

_“John, thank God. You hear me right? I don’t sound drunk.”_

John sighed into the phone. _“No, you surprisingly don’t.”_

_“EXACTLY! I’m deadass dude. I’ve got a real mystery on my hands here.”_

_“You and me both, Alex. I initially texted you to talk about the weird shit here on my end.”_

_“You never answered if you were nak-”_

_“No you idiot, everything’s right where I left it when I went to bed. Clothes and all.”_

Alex let out a whimper on the other end of the line.

_“Are you messing with me, Alex? Because I will actually kill you.”_

__

__

_“NO, I-“_ Alex groaned, _“I’m DEADASS! Want me to send you a picture? I’ll send you a fucking pic—“_

__

__

_“No, no, no, I’m fine. Please no pictures.”_

_“OF THE ASH YOU ASSHOLE!”_

John chucked. _“Ash-hole.”_ He could hear Alex practically slam his phone down, grumbling at both John and the situation while trying to take a picture.

 _Buzz._ **Alex (1)**

John put Alex on speaker and opened their conversation, expanding the picture. 

_“Woah what the fuck...“_ There was an actual pile of ash sitting in Alex’s blackened hands. The picture was detailed enough for John to make out larger chunks of charred jean fabric mixed amongst the finer ash. Those were definitely his clothes.

_“I told you dude! I threw my covers back and now it’s all over my room. What the hell am I supposed to do?”_

__

__

_“Well I suggest cleaning it up before Washington gets a hold of your ash.”_

_“Stop with the ass/ash jokes, I’m begging.”_ A deep sigh filled call line. _“You know what. I don’t care. Fuck this. What’s your problem, John?”_

__

__

_“So eager to give in already?”_

_“I’m so damn tired and I’ve gotta save brain power for tomor—today.“_

_“You sure? My problem’s a bit less... urgent, I guess.”_

John interpreted the groan on Alex’s end as a yes.

_“So I woke up at like, 2:15am right, because something really bright flashed in my eyes.”_

__

__

_“Probably just someone’s headlights.”_

_“See that’s what I thought! But there’s nobody in the parking lot, and, AND, the light came back when I sneezed.”_

_“So you can create light from sneezes and I can burn my cloths off. We’re a couple a fucking nut jobs. Wonderful.”_

_“Truly. Maybe we’re descendants of the Incredibles or something.”_

Alex‘s annoyed groan was cut short by a gasp of realization. 

_“JOHN THAT’S-“_

_“I WAS KIDDING ALEX.“_

_“BUT IT MAKES SENSE!”_

_“KIDDING.”_


	2. Without Them I’d Be Smokin’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to seem suspicious...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s up guys, it’s ya boy.
> 
> I just wanted to mention right quick that I know my writing style is pretty weird. I like to mix slang words in with more complex descriptions because it’s the best reflection of how I talk in real life, and I find it easiest to write.
> 
> Same goes with the characters’ dialogue. People, especially high schoolers (I would know), don’t speak in perfect grammatical tenses or sentence structures, so I don’t intend to write them like they do.

John had never been a morning person. Adding having been up since 2:15am on top of that? Yeah, he felt like the embodiment of death itself. 

He managed to drag his ass out of bed and on to the school bus, but ended up passing out as soon as he hit the seat. At the third stop after John’s, a guy slid in next to him, jostling him awake. John adjusted himself with a groan and leaned his head against the window.

“O-Oh, did I wake you? Sorry, man.” John turned all the attention he could muster towards the guy. He was turned in on himself, seemingly frazzled, with his black, leather-gloved hands gripping the straps of his backpack, ready to bolt at any provocation.

“Nah, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” With the nod of his head, the guy relaxed and sunk into his seat. John’s eyes fell to the gloves, curious. It was probably a good 80°F out, way too warm for gloves, leather ones nonetheless. 

“Why the gloves?” The words had slipped out of his mouth before his weary brain had the chance to stop them.

The guy shifted in his seat, gripping his straps yet again. “Uh, no particular reason.”

John hummed, watching as his eyes shifted away, and decided against pushing any further. “Well, I’m John. Laurens. John Laurens.”

The guy’s face contorted into an expression of confusion, but John registered a small smile hidden away in its depths. “I’m Aaron. Burr. Aaron Burr.”

The bus came to a stop at the school and everyone stood, shoving their way to the front. Both Aaron and John hung back. 

“You’re a senior, right? Haven’t really seen you around,” John said.

“Yeah, well nobody really has. You’re a junior?”

“Yeah.”

With the bus vacant, and their conversation at a standstill, they left and headed their separate ways. 

“Nice to meet you, dude.”

“Yeah, you too, John.”

—————

On his way to U.S. History with nothing to occupy his mind, John started to feel the fatigue set in again. He still managed to drag his ass into the classroom though, walking to the back and sliding into his desk. Within a few seconds he was down for the count, his head tucked into his arms and his eyes too heavy to force open.

John shared History with Alex, Lafayette, and Hercules, but they were usually apart the late arrivers, which left John to anticipate at least a few minutes of peaceful sleep. 

But if course, much earlier than expected, Alex all but dove into the near empty class and fell into his seat next to John. 

“Dude, you‘re not gonna believe—“ he paused as his eyes fell to the slumped figure beside him. “Hey, John, you alright?” he asked, gently ruffling John’s curly hair. He had put it back in a low ponytail today, a habit he’d recently been forced to acquire due to its length. 

John lifted his head with a groan, frustrated at his lack of peace this morning. As soon as his eyes met Alex’s though, his expression softened. 

“Oh, Alex, sorry. I’m so damn tired.” 

“It’s fine. Welcome to my world.”

John set his head back down, his eyes focusing on Alex’s hands and the black leather gloves adorning them. “More gloves?” he grumbled. “What’s with this sudden trend?”

“Trend? These are so I don’t burn this place down. Is there someone else wearing them?”

“Yeah, some Aaron Burr on the bus this morning. He was wearing those exact same gloves. Weird guy, but nice.”

“Burr?” Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, he’s in debate. Maybe he burns stuff too?”

“A quiet guy like him? That’d be quite the sight.”

“Quiet? You should see him in debate,” Alex chuckled. “Well, anyways,” he held up his hands, the topic disregarded, “I stole these from Jefferson a few months back. Glad I finally get to use them.”

“Oh my fucking God, you did not.” 

“I did.”

“Those are Jefferson’s riding gloves. If he finds out—“

Alex swiveled his head around, assessing the immediate area before huddling in towards John. “Keep your voice down you idiot. Yes, I know. He deserved it. And no, he won’t find out.”

John rolled his eyes. “Better hide them well then.”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Alex continued, “I lit my trashcan on fire while cleaning up that ash shit last night. I don’t know how, but I touched it, then _whoosh_.”

John, now very intrigued, rested his head on his hand. “How’d you put it out?”

”Poured the rest of my water bottle into the can.” He shrugged. “I was lucky it was there. I’m pretty sure you’re right, though. With the whole pyrokinetic thing. But it’s more... touched based I think. Everything I touch, I burn.” Alex suddenly gasped, his train of thought interrupted. “Oh fuck, I just touched your hair, didn’t I? Did I burn it? Shit, I’m sorry.”

John scrambled to feel atop his head, running his fingers through the same spot Alex had moments earlier. “Jesus, it’s fine Alex. You scared me.” He made the habitual motion of resting his hand atop Alex’s, but Alex jerked back and set both of them in his lap. “Woah, watch it.”

John recoiled back too, slightly taken aback. “It’s fine, Alex, calm down—“

“No, absolutely not. I don’t know how these will hold up and I don’t want to burn you.”

“Burn who?” Both Alex and John’s heads shot up, their attention directed towards Hercules, who had just entered the class. They exchanged fearful looks as Hercules took his seat on the other side of Alex. “Oh hey Alex, you’re early today.”

“Uhhh, yeah. Just decided to show up on time I guess,” he chuckled awkwardly.

“The idiot grabbed some hot pan handle last night or something. Burnt his hands,” John finished, giving Alex’s knee a hard but supportive couple pats.

Hercules let out a concerned laugh. “Both hands? Sounds like something you’d do. They okay?” He made a grab for them, but they only disappeared further between Alex’s knees. 

“Yeah I’m fine, they just _really_ hurt right now. Doctor said I should keep some gloves on for a while.” By the tensing of Alex’s shoulders, John read that it was a good time to change the subject. “Hey, where’s Laf?” 

“Pshh, no idea. He didn’t meet me at my locker this morning and hasn’t texted me back since last night.”

Alex and John exchanged looks again.

—————

By the time the bell had rung and Mr. Washington had walked in, Laf still hadn’t shown up. It was uncharacteristic to say in the least. He wasn’t one to miss school, especially without giving the group an explanation.

John decided to take matters into his own hands. “Hey,” he lightly elbowed Alex in the side, “pretend to be me if Washington starts calling attendance,” he requested, not bothering to wait for a reply before he pulled out his phone to text, of all people, Thomas Jefferson. How he’d acquired his number, John had no clue.

 **John:** Hey, dude. It’s Laurens. Do you know where Lafayette is? He never showed.

His phone buzzed with an immediate reply.

 **T. Jeff:** We’re both home sick. 

**T. Jeff:** Wait, is Hamilton with you?

 **John:** Yeah, why?

 **T. Jeff:** Tell him to fuck off.

John snuck a glance over to Alex, who was staring at the whiteboard with a blank look on his face, his head resting in his hands.

 **John:** What’d he do?

 **T. Jeff:** Nothing yet. I can’t be there to monitor his idiocy, so why not just get ahead of the game?

 **John:** Alright, then. Will do. Thanks.

John pocketed his phone with a chuckle, reveling in the fact that the longest conversation he’s managed with Jefferson revolved around telling Alex to fuck off. 

“Any news?” Hercules whispered.

“Yeah, both the French boys are apparently home sick. Also, Alex, Jefferson told me to tell you to fuck off.”

Alex bristled just at the mere mention of the name. “Tell him I’ll _incinerate_ him.”

Hercules chuckled. “Sure you can take him?”

“You know what?” he turned to Hercules, slightly rising from his seat, “I sure as hell—“

“Is there a problem over there, Alexander?” John and Hercules instantly stiffened, Washington’s voice tending to have that effect on people, while a small section of the class bubbled with laughter.

Alex returned his attention to the front, the rest of his sentence sitting on his tongue. “No, sorry sir.”

An exasperated sigh fell from the teacher’s lips as he turned back to the class, resuming whatever lecture he had just begun about the Revolutionary War. John should probably pay attention, but he wasn’t nearly interested enough to bother.

He rested his chin on the desk, instead watching as Alex, who had definitely already read two chapters ahead in the textbook, held his gloved hands out in front of him, as if to inspect them.

“You know,” John whispered, “those are kinda hot.”

Alex tried to hide his smile, but John saw the corners of his cheeks creep up. “Well without them I’d be smokin’.”


	3. Fear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y’all knew I just had to do it to em.

“Alexander, may I please speak with you?”

“Fuck,” Alex hissed, halfway out the classroom door. So close, yet so far.

“ _Sorry_ ,” John mouthed, quickly dragging Hercules out the door by the arm. Alex back-stepped with a grumble and made his way over to Washington’s desk, a fake grin plastered on his face. 

Washington was organizing the stack of papers tossed to him by his students a few minutes prior; an assignment about comparing and contrasting the Revolutionary War and the French Revolution. Pretty simple stuff, in Alex’s opinion. He had finished it in a few minutes and ended up talking to John for the rest of the class.

“Is there something wrong, sir?“

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Washington retorted, tapping the papers against his desk to align them.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Please, Alexander,” he sighed. “Drop the formality, we’re alone, and tell me what’s going on.”

Alex clenched his jaw, trying to hold his smile. “There’s literally nothing going on, sir.”

Washington grimaced, the movements of his hands stuttering as he turned to face Alex. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know.” The sheer intensity of his stare startled Alex, and he could feel himself slipping. 

He had to say something, preferably something believable. The truth was always an option, but really? _“I burn everything I touch which is kinda cool but I also almost lit the house on fire last night?”_ Fucking fat chance.

Washington set the papers aside with another sigh and took a seat in his chair, crossing his hands in his lap to grant Alex his full attention. “You were banging around in your room all last night,” he said, “And now, you’ve show up today wearing a pair of gloves that I’ve never seen in my life.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows, unsure where he was going with this.

“Look, son, if something... violent is going on with you, you can come to me. You know that right?”

A chuckle escaped Alex’s lips, strained and rough. “I’m not _punching_ things in my spare time if that’s what you’re baselessly insinuating —“

“Alexander,” Washington warned, voice stern. “I can only draw conclusions from what I’ve been given—“

“I haven’t _given_ you anything,” he spat, regretting it almost instantly when Washington’s face fell. Alex chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Listen. I’m fine, I just... had a nightmare last night.”

Washington perked back up. “A nightmare? You could’ve come and gotten me—“

“No, it’s fine, you were sleeping, or so I thought. Doesn’t matter. I called John to talk about it afterwards, so like I said, I’m fine.”

“What about the gloves?”

“They’re John’s, he uses them for football sometimes, but since the season’s over he let me borrow them. It’s... fashion, like I said.”

“Fashion,” Washington repeated, a tinge of amusement behind the calculated word. 

_Ah, shit._ Alex recognized, no, could read, the incredulous look in his eyes. Washington knew he was lying. 

Abruptly, the two-minute warning bell resonated throughout the school, and Alex nearly sighed in relief. This was Washington’s free period, so he could, technically, hold him here for as long as he deemed necessary, but Alex couldn’t afford such luxuries. He had classes to go to. For attendance, of course, not the material.

“I should go. Gonna be late, ya know?”

Washington took a deep breath, and threw his hands up, resigned. “Alright, let me write you a late pass—“

“No need, I’ll make it on time. Bye!” 

And with that, Alex bolted out the door, only slowing his pace when he heard it close a few feet behind him. 

“Holy. Fuck.” He unclenched his hands from the straps of his bag and ran them down his face in relief, swallowing the fear and guilt rising up his throat. Attempting to forget the whole interaction, he just focused on making it to Pre-Cal on time. 

Alex swore the vendetta his teacher— a fat-ass Mr. John Adams— had against him was just a projection of his hate for Washington. That only meant that if he was late again, Adams would personally sever his ass and mount it on his wall. He really didn’t need that right now.

Strangely enough, the idea of Adams _absorbing_ children’s severed asses to contribute to his own... rotundness... crossed his mind. He’d have to tell that to the group later.

Luckily, he managed to slip into the class right as the bell rang, taking his seat next to Hercules. This was one of the few classes they didn’t share with John or Lafayette, which, to make matters even worse, just so happened to be only real one they shared with Jefferson. Alex could barely get through debate, but to be stuck in a core class with the asshole tripled the pain in his ass.

The pretentious idiot had failed math junior year, pushing him into Alex’s class while he took the rest of his senior courses. Alex took it strong though, relishing in opportunity every day to rub the situation in Jefferson’s stupid face.

Too bad he was sick today.

Adams walked by, sliding a couple papers onto their desks titled ‘Polar Equations Quiz’ with a sour look. Hercules took his passing-by as the risky chance to talk, as it seemed to be one of Adam’s biggest pet peeves. 

“What did Washington do? Roast you up?”

“Nah, he’s just concerned about my, uh, hands. Usual parent stuff.” He tucked a strand of hair free from his ponytail behind his ear, tapping his pencil on the desk while scanning the quiz. It was fairly easy stuff, just polar graphing, but Alex couldn’t focus. 

The nauseating feeling of fear and guilt was crawling back up his throat, and he was struggling to force it back down a second time.

He knew how strong Washington’s resolve could be. The man was going to find out eventually, and it terrified Alex. He’d disown him, un-adopt him or something. 

Maybe he could prolong his stay by hiding it for as long as possible. Was that a shitty thing to do? To hide these things from your guardians?

Perhaps the better option would be to just tell him outright. Maybe, just maybe, he could actually help.

Alex swallowed the small chuckle that threatened to escape his lips and shook the thought from his head. 

_That’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had._

————

Alex’s next couple of classes carried along without any more direct problems. He received a few offhand comments about his gloves, which he was really starting to despise, but otherwise was confined to his desk like usual, tapping the beat to some song on his desk while the teachers droned on about stuff he already knew.

When the bell rang for lunch, he was beyond ready. While he wasn’t looking forward to heading home— a shiver ran down his spine just at the implication of being interrogated by Washington, his army background wasn’t a joke— being at school any longer didn’t sound any more appealing. 

Alex took a deep breath and stood, following Hercules and John to the cafeteria with his eyes trained to the ground. His mind shuffled through various, very persistent thoughts about his... condition, if he could call it that.

Muscle memory led him to their table, where they deposited their backpacks before getting in line for food. A very animated conversation between John and Hercules was erupting beside him, but Alex’s attention was reserved to the scenarios running through his brain. 

“—ex. Alex. You okay?” John’s tentative voice hit his ears, but it went unprocessed. A soft expression overtook his face as he approached Alex, gently placing his hand on his cheek. Alex stiffened at the touch, ripped from this thoughts just in time to see John abruptly jerk his arm back, like he’d been... 

Burnt?

Alex flinched at the realization.

Fuck.

“FUCK,” John echoed, his other hand fumbling to wrap around his wrist, like it would restrain the searing pain from shooting up his arm. Judging from his contorted face, the attempt was to no avail.

Hercules rushed to John’s side, hands on his shoulders. “John? Joh— oh my God is your hand...” His head jerked up as he took a step back, shooting Alex a look that pierced right through his heart. 

Fear. It swirled in his eyes, cloaking his body and it’s overall expression.

“Did you just—“

Hercules was afraid of him.

Alex took a step back, giving them some space. “John, I’m—“

“Both of you c-calm down, I’m—F-FUCK—fine,” he spat, visibly struggling to keep his composure. He swiveled his head around and Alex followed his gaze, meeting the various eyes trained on the scene in front of them. People were watching. 

John uncurled himself, most likely in response to the crowd of critical eyes watching the scene unfold. Alex had drawn in the one thing he couldn’t stand to be in the presence of: the bad kind of attention. To tarnish his image was to tarnish John himself, and Alex _knew_ this. 

“John, I-I’m—“

“I’m just going to go to the b-bathroom really quick,” he hissed, gritting his teeth through the pain as to not draw more attention.

Alex stepped forward this time, hands reaching out in hesitance. He didn’t mean to do this. He had covered as much as he could to prevent contact, but perhaps that was the worst part about this situation. He’d never be completely safe to be around. 

“I-I’ll come with you—“

“No, I’m fine.” A pained smile contorted his freckled face. Alex grimaced. He could ruin all of it. That face, those freckles. Completely destroy them with just a touch.

“Stay h-here and talk to Hercules. Tell him what-whatever you want,” he whispered, his eyes starting to well up with tears, “but know this wasn’t your fault, a-alright? I know how you can g-get.”

“I-I’m sorry, John. So f-fucking sorry—“

“It’s n-not your fault, Alexander.”

He turned to rush out of the cafeteria, leaving Alex alone in the shadow of his full name. Hercules followed his movement with wide eyes, completely lost.

“Did he just... burn himself? On you?” he asked, taking a hesitant step forward. 

Alex shuffled further up in the line, away from Hercules, only to brush shoulders with someone passing by. There were so many people around him, all of them he could scorch like toast in a shity toaster. 

If he just... disappeared, that’d be perfect. Nobody would get hurt. He just... he just needed to get out of here, go somewhere where nobody would see. That’d be perfect.

“Alex? T-Talk to me. Please.” 

But Alex couldn’t leave. Not with that look on Hercules’ face. Not with all that fear and worry etched into his expression. He couldn’t leave them like this.

“Herc, lets just sit down. I need to explain some stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I couldn’t find a way to end this chapter, so I just threw the last couple paragraphs together.
> 
> Also, I was originally gonna give G Wash powers but decided he’d be too OP as an adult. 
> 
> I’m honestly making this up as I go...


	4. Big Bad Football Player John Laurens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alas, the team begins to form.

John’s frantic feet brought him to the boys’ bathroom, where he fumbled amidst his steps and slammed his shoulder into the swinging door. He couldn’t quite see where he was going, his vision clouded by a mass of unshed tears, but he heard it slam shut behind him with a clang as he rounded the corner to the sinks.

God, he was hoping that nobody else was here. He had an image to maintain, and the big, bad football player John Laurens crying in the boys’ bathroom was not it.

As he rounded the corner to the sinks, he realized things could never just go his way.

“Shit, sorry dude, c-can you move?” he asked the figure in front of the mirror, digging his heel into the ground to fight the urge to just push by. He may be in excruciating, fiery pain, but his public image was always the most important thing. His dad had taught him that.

“Y-Yeah, sorry— wait, John?“

The dam had broken, and tears now ran over his eyelashes, leaving trails down his cheek. _God this was embarrassing._

“A-Aaron? Oh, thank Go-God it’s you,” he sobbed, startling Aaron.

“Yeah, it’s m-me.” His eyes fell to John’s hand. “What happened—are you okay?”

“No, I’m—I’m not,” he chuckled, voice breaking halfway through. He scrambled towards the sink, but Aaron was one step ahead of him, turning the knob for the cold water, his familiar black gloves catching John’s eye.

“Thanks, d-dude,” he said, frantically shoving his hand under the cold stream of water. Aaron remained thoughtfully silent as John braced himself against the wall, his lip sandwiched between his teeth as he swallowed his scream. 

Through his tears, he watched as a familiar light flared from his palm and dissipated into the air, as though it had failed to start up. _Oh no, not here. Please._ John quickly glanced at Aaron through the mirror, relieved to see his eyes trained to his feet, lost in thought. John flipped his hand under the water, hoping that anything else emitted would be stifled by the hard marble sink.

Aaron pulled his head up and met eyes with John through the mirror. “What happened?”

“I burnt my hand. Doesn’t look too bad, but d-damn it hurts like a bitch.”

He contemplated in silence for a moment. “I mean like, _how?_ ”

“Oh,” John’s gaze trailed to his reflection and he felt his body tense at the pitiful sight before him. “I just, uh, t-touched something hot, ya know.” 

Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed, but he spoke no more about it. John reminded himself to thank him later.

“Well, here,” Aaron sighed, ripping the fastening velcro of his glove off his wrist “Take one of my gloves.”

“W-What? No, it’s fine—“

“You have small hands, so they’ll probably be really loose on you. You can fill them with tissue paper,” Aaron finished, the glove already off. He immediately stuffed his now bare hand into the pocket of his hoodie, which John didn’t have the energy to question. 

“I can’t, seriously, but t-thanks Aaron.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He paused before nodding slowly, pulling the glove back on before crossing his arms. 

“You should probably head to the nurse’s office then,” he said. “You’re supposed to put aloe vera on burns. She should have some.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about this,” John mused, but Aaron didn’t reply. 

John sighed. “I’m not going to the nurse.”

“What? You—“

“I’ve got three more classes to go to. I’ll be fine, trust me. It’s not that bad.” He was lying through his teeth, literally. Truth was he needed to get back to Alex. To make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. That seemed to be a specially of his.

“I—“ Aaron paused, holding his breath, as if debating saying the next words. “I can help. Or rather I know someone who can.” He brought his fingers to his face, like he was about to bite at his nails, but quickly brought them back down when the leather met his lips. “S-Sorry, but I’ll be right back. Stay here, please.”

Before John could protest, Aaron had already rushed out of the bathroom, leaving his backpack and John behind in his wake.

He was alone and resigned to his thoughts now, which wouldn’t have been a typical danger, but this day had gone to absolute shit real fast. Sleep deprived and crying in the bathroom was not something John ever saw himself doing. He gazed down to his hand, pulsating under the steady stream cold water, silently wondering how the school calculated their water bill.

He attempted to clench it into a fist, realizing it was a stupid idea when hot pain shot up his arm. _This is some bullshit._ It couldn’t have been his left hand? How was he supposed to write? How was he supposed to _throw?_

John’s breath caught in his throat before he remembered that football season was over. Would this be healed in time for next season? If he misses pre-season practice, his dad would...

Oh, shit. 

How the fuck was he going to explain this to his dad? He couldn’t even _mention_ Alex in his dad’s presence, and he’d be admonished even if he claimed it to be a solo freak accident.

Right then, the door to the bathroom creaked open, and in a split second decision, John turned to the sink and placed his other hand under the water, pretending to wash his hands.

“—ou sure?” 

“There aren’t any security cameras. Trust me, I’d know.”

His movements froze. Was that a... girl’s voice? Or was he mistaken. John prepared to leave, flicking the wrist of his good hand to dry it. _Please, PLEASE no._ He knew couples hooked up in bathrooms, but NOW? Of all times?

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Aaron’s voice echoed as he rounded the corner— the sigh of relief that left John’s mouth was immeasurable— with a familiar girl in tow.

Her dark eyes trailed along the tiled, blue walls before settling on John’s tensed figure. “This place is absolutely disgusting,” she sighed. “I don’t know how y’all do it, but it probably takes a lot of hard work to get it this dirty.”

“Aaron, why’s there a _girl—_ ” John screeched, but Aaron cut him off. 

“Don’t worry, nobody ever comes in here during lunch.”

“But why is she _here._ ”

He lightly chuckled, the first time John had ever really heard him do so. “I said I’d bring someone who could help. This is Maria. She can help.”

“Hi sweetie!” she waved, her large hoop earrings swaying with her head. John had seen her around at football games— she hung out with the cheerleading girls from time to time— but had never made the effort to talk to her. He heard her name floating around the field, the guys talking about her like she was a prize, but John had never been interested, or more like didn’t understand why anyone would be. He had nothing against her, just issues with her... type.

“Uh, h-hi? I’m John.” He flipped his hand back over in the sink, his palm accidentally scraping against the overhanging faucet. He instantly crumpled in on himself, biting his lip to avoid screaming again. Maria took notice and strolled over.

“Yeah, I know. Laurens, number 27.” She flicked her pedicured fingers in a give-me gesture. “Let me see it.”

John held his breath as he brought it out of the water, his arm shaking. Maria grimaced. 

“Wow that’s... yikes.”

“Yeah, th-thanks.”

She braced her soft hand under it, allowing John to relax his arm. “I saw what happened in the lunchroom.” He instantly stiffened as she continued. “He burned you, didn’t he. That boy.”

John’s eyes flitted between Aaron and Maria, both maintaining the same, knowing expression, as he scrambled to find an excuse, anything as long as it didn’t include Alex. 

“What boy?” he rasped.

Maria looked up at his wrecked face and pushed his hand back under the water. John hissed again and met her eyes, registering their threatening dark glimmer. He read what she was trying to convey. That what she had said was a statement, not a question. 

She already knew too much. 

Maria laughed, confident and light. “Doesn’t matter. You’re about to see something super fuckin’ cool anyways.”

“Maria, wait—“ Aaron said, as she yanked John’s hand towards her again— he doesn’t know how many more times he could take it alternating between air and water— and delicately ran her other hand over his palm. “Are you sure you can do this?”

The feather-light touch was absolutely excruciating, and John would have jerked his hand back had it not been for the white-knuckle grip she had on his wrist. He could feel her eyes burning a hole through his hand, a concentrated look on her face. “We’re about to find out.”

“What are y-you a fucking palm reader?” John’s voice echoed in the bathroom. Nobody bothered to respond. 

Without warning, Maria touched their palms together and John’s body shook as pain scorched his entire body. A sharp metallic taste hit the side of his tongue, and he realized he’d bitten through his cheek trying to hold in his scream. 

Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks, diffusing the image of a sudden light overtaking the bathroom. John thought it was coming from him, but there was something different about it. A different component, not belonging to him.

Something warm surged through his veins, overtaking his senses. He registered voices around him but couldn’t pinpoint exact words, only noise. He couldn’t even feel the pain anymore, only the warmth.

John felt his shoulders slump, his body unclenching. “W-What— did y-you do?” he breathed, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. 

The other light, the one not his, was coming from Maria. More specifically, it was traveling from her palm to his, its tinted green flare disappearing into his skin.

Aaron’s voice filled the hollow bathroom. “Why’s it so bright?

“I didn’t know! It’s never done that before!” Maria looked out of character, frazzled, confused. Aaron was braced on his knees as he leaned over, scrubbing at his eyes with his other gloved hand.

John sniffled, turning back to the source of the green light, watching as Maria slowly lifted her hand from his, a smile spread across her face.

“Oh my God! I did it, Aaron! I did it!” She was jumping up and down like a child, clapping her hands together.

John’s eyes widened as he clenched his hand into a fist and relaxed it. 

No pain.

No damage.

No scar.

John’s mouth opened but no words came out. He was completely speechless.

It was _healed._

“It should be just fine,” Maria’s cheery voice broke his trance. “It was only a surface level burn. You’re such a crybaby, honestly.“

“T-Thank you,” John stammered, ignoring the jab and wiggling his fingers. “How’d you do t-this?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Only tried it for the first time about three hours ago.” She grabbed his hand. “I can’t believe I managed this! It’s so fuckin’ cool!”

Aaron stepped forward, John honestly forgetting he was there. “You can’t say anything about this to anyone, John.”

Maria interjected before John could open his mouth. “Don’t even worry about it, honey.” She turned to John. “That boy, the one who burnt you, he does crazy shit like us right? I want to meet him.”

“U-Us?”

“Yeah, Aaron and I. He can turn inv—“

“Maria—” Aaron hissed, reaching her arm, a fearful look in his eyes.

“Invisible?” John blurted. “Really?”

Aaron shrunk in of himself, his shoulders collapsing. “I-It’s why I wear the gloves. My hands are usually the first to go.” He reached for the strap on his gloves, John assuming he was going to demonstrate, only to refasten the velcro tighter than before. John’s sympathetic heart lurched at the sight.

“That’s kinda fucking dope,” he chuckled, watching as some light filtered into Aaron’s eyes. “Are they any others? Like us?”

Maria perked up, her turn to question the inclusive word. “Us?” she asked. “There’s more?” She gasped, a smile overtaking his face. “That bright-ass light was you right? Because I know it wasn’t from me. Can you heal—“

“Jesus, keep your voice down, Maria!” Aaron hissed. She spun around to face him, a fierce glare in her eyes. Aaron’s mouth snapped shut as shoulders sunk again, his head bowing to avoid her gaze. 

John fidgeted with his fingers, cracking his newly-healed knuckles. “Yeah, the light was me, but I don’t know what it... does?” John turned his hands upwards, still shocked at the condition of his palm. “It only happens when I sneeze.“

“Well you just did it then, did you not?” Maria asked, rubbing Aaron’s arm, seemingly comforting him.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t _willingly._ I’ve never been able to control it.”

”Just, um, think really hard. I know it sounds stupid but like, focus all your energy into your hands. Like you’re gonna... crush something without actually moving your fingers. That’s what I did.”

“Crush something...” John repeated, furrowing his brows and extending his arm. 

With two pairs of eyes watching him look like a complete idiot, he felt a little self-conscious, but as soon as the spark shot off his hand and a ball of light emerged— dim, but glowing— he realized perhaps his day was getting better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m suddenly sympathetic towards Aaron character-wise despite actually hating him in Hamilton because most of his characterization in this is a reflection of myself. I peel apart my own layers and assign each to a character, which keeps them at the very least mildly realistic.
> 
> This in turn allows me to throw my own experiences into the mix and control how the characters react, rewriting my own memories in a way, or keeping them how they were and eliciting the sympathy I never got.
> 
> It’s kinda like a form of catharsis to me, so I try and write as diligently as I can. Regardless, thanks for the support!


	5. The Supernatural Freaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re slowly assembling...

Alex felt fucking horrible. 

He was already a freak, some pitiful orphan from the Caribbean, but he never thought he’d shoot that all out of the park with some bullshit like this.

I mean, pyrokinesis? Are you fucking _kidding me?_ Out of all the things he’s prayed for— to see his mother again, to make it out alive, for Jefferson to finally keel over— _this_ is what he was granted. 

“So that’s about the run-down?” 

Alex was snapped out of his thoughts by Hercules, who paused to be sure Alex had heard his question before spooning mashed potatoes into his mouth. Alex eyed the food, not recalling when he had left to buy it.

“Yeah, basically,” he replied.

After they had watched John scamper off, Hercules dragged Alex to their lunch table by his shirt sleeve, where he sat in front of him interrogation-style. Alex resigned himself with a sigh, acknowledging that he knew he was fucked; he had no choice but to lay out the full truth. 

So that’s what had done.

“Wow. And this all happened at like, two in the morning?”

“Yeah.”

Hercules’ eyes fell to his tray and he swallowed roughly, reaching for his carton of milk immediately after. “Well, something kind of happened to me... but it’s probably a coincidence since I don’t, ya know, have powers like you or John.”

Alex perked up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I woke up really early, like you guys, and uhh, my bed was fucking _soaked_ —“

“Ah, dude that’s gross—“

“But it wasn’t like that!” Hercules spluttered. “My whole body was soaked, even my hair. There was water dripping onto my fucking _floor_.”

Alex rested his head on his hand, intrigued. “Yeah, that’s a bit weird. What’d you end up doing?”

“I was so damn tired I just flipped my mattress over and blamed the whole thing on Rebound. He must’ve been in my room knocking shit over like usual.”

Rebound, Hercules’ big ole Great Dane, was Alex’s absolute favorite creature. From barreling into walls, to snapping tables in half, the dog had a history of embodying a bull in a China shop. Despite Hercules’ constant complaints, Alex found him endearing.

“It probably wasn’t Rebound,” Alex said, watching as Hercules nodded in agreement, a short gasp following.

“Holy. Shit. What if I’m a water-bender? Like Katara? That would be so fucking cool.”

“Yeah,” Alex stated absentmindedly. “It would be.”

A thoughtful silence descended upon the table as Hercules stared intently at his hand, leaving Alex’s eyes to wander the cafeteria. He was grateful that teenagers’ attention spans were so short. Everyone was back to normal, minding their own business. 

Regardless, rumors were sure to start flying soon. He expected to hear something along the lines of ‘Alexander Hamilton _stabbed_ a football player,’ or a story just as absurd and out-of-context quite soon.

He sighed, running his hands over his face. He needed to get together with everyone  
and talk about this. Establish a meeting of sorts. 

If Hercules really was like him and John, then there could be so many more kids out there. Kids who could put them all in danger by simply exposing their existence. Kids right in this very school.

Unexpectedly, a red-rimmed and blotchy-faced John caught Alex’s eyes as he strolled into the cafeteria, flanked by some girl and, of all people, Aaron Burr. His mind whirled, running over the reasons why John would have returned with _reinforcements_.

He watched as John scanned the cafeteria, settling into his gaze. Alex quickly tore his eyes away, the blood rushing from his face. 

He wasn’t in the mood to face whatever John was bringing to the table, literally. Should he run? Would that that an appropriate reaction?

John gestured to their table before turning to his entourage, exchanging a few quick words with them as they made their way over. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex watched the movements of his hands as they swirled through the air, equally, as if they were both uninjured.

“Hey, I’m back,” John sighed, sliding in on the bench next to Alex. “And I’m starving.” Aaron and the girl filed in next to Hercules, distracting him as John snatched a steak finger off his tray. 

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing? Hercules asked, gesturing to both his stolen steak finger and the two table intruders. “What’s going on here?”

“Calm down, Herc, you haven’t even given me a chance to explain yet.” 

“Better hurry, then.”

“Is that a threat?” John asked, watching as Hercules shrugged in response. He turned to the uncharacteristically silent Alex, who had cast his eyes down to the table. “You alright, Alex?”

John’s voice was soft, inviting, and Alex felt his jaw clench. 

He was angry. So fucking angry at himself for hurting John. As minor as it was, who’s to say it won’t happen again? That he won’t just light up one day and reduce everyone to ashes?

“The real question is are _you_ okay?”

“Look,” John said, a small smile distorting the outlines of dried of tear tracks on his cheeks. “I’m all good.” 

Alex followed the movement of his palms as he flipped them up, watching to their reveal with wide eyes. He reached out to touch them, to check if they were real, but second-guessed himself and retracted his hands with a grimace.

“Y-You’re sure it’s okay?”

John nodded, cracking his knuckles to demonstrate. “It’s all healed now, thanks to Maria.”

At the announcement of her name, Maria leaned over the table and waved cheerily. “Hi! That’s me.”

Alex felt himself bristle, not used to such a buoyant presence, but returned the wave anyways.

“You’re Alexander Hamilton,” she said, her words carried by the flirtatious tilt of her lips. “Aaron talks about ya sometimes. It’s usually not all that great.” 

Aaron muttered something and lightly smacked her arm.

“And you’re Maria Reynolds,” Alex responded. “Everyone talks about you.”

“As they should,” she shot back, smile extending to her ears. Alex grinned back, purposefully strained. 

“Wait, hold up,” Hercules interrupted, oblivious to the electricity in the air. “What do you mean ‘thanks to Maria?’ What’d she do?”

“Great question. That’s why I brought them here. To talk about that,” John said. “Alex told you everything, right?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Great, because these two know about it as well—“

“WHAT?” Alex spat, resisting the urge to grab John’s arm. “You fucking TOLD them?”

“They already knew, Alex, calm down. They’re like us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us, the supernatural freaks. Maria can heal people,” John said, flashing his palm. “And Aaron can apparently turn invisible.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

Maria’s face glimmered with a smile as Aaron shrugged, eyes trained to his gloved hands. 

“What can we say, it’s been a wild day,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry this is so short, but it’s been a bit rough for me lately. I haven’t had a lot of time to write.
> 
> I keep finding myself shifting into narrating from John’s perspective because I relate to him the most lmao whoops.,,,


End file.
